On their tenth wedding anniversary, Emma’s husband Mark took her to the most expensive restaurant in the area, just so to make her feel uncomfortable with a cheap salad. He had no clue that the next night, she would exact his revenge on him and the entire restaurant.
Mellow brilliance from the chandelier flooded the café with warm, golden light. A sophisticated ambiance was created by the velvet seats and excellent table decorations.
My husband, Mark, had promised me that our tenth wedding anniversary would be the most special. I had imagined a lavish dinner with fine food and sparkling champagne.
As we were seated, I saw the knowing smiles between the servers. They seemed to be familiar with Mark. He got a reservation at “La Belle Époque,” the priciest restaurant in town. Tonight was one of the important occasions that this place was intended for.
With an indifferent smile, Mark handed me the menu. He said, “Order whatever you like, dear,” but his eyes sent a different meaning. I glanced over the menu, which was filled with fancy-sounding but mouthwatering dishes that sounded so good.
“I think I’ll have the lobster bisque to start, and then the filet mignon,” I remarked, full of excitement.
Mark’s smile grew smaller. Actually, how about starting with a house salad? Keep it brief. You really want to lose weight, don’t you? Maybe you’ll wear that stunning red dress I’ve had my eye on when we visit again.
His words were like a smack. I looked around, blushing sharply with embarrassment. Did this strike him as a joke? But the steely sparkle in his eyes told me he was serious.
It’s our anniversary, Mark, I mutely protested. “I had the thought—”
“You thought wrong,” he said, waving away the waiter. “My wife will choose the house salad, and I’ll have the medium-rare Chateaubriand. and your best red wine, in a bottle.
The waiter halted and sent me a sympathetic glance. “Excellent, sir.”
I swallowed my fury, a sad mess of green salad in front of me. Mark savored every bite of his lavish supper, highlighting the flavor of the sauce and the suppleness of the meat. The wine flowed freely, at least for him. It seemed like the lunch would never finish as I sipped my water.
Having to put up with Mark’s controlling manner throughout dinner was terrible. He was enjoying every mouthful of his steak and chatting to me about it as I nibbled at my salad.
I tried not to get too worked up, but I was boiling over with wrath. He ordered his dessert, a delicious chocolate soufflé, and said, “She’s done,” without even looking at me. I felt guilty. And here I was, being ignored on the anniversary of our marriage. He was enjoying his dessert when I decided not to let this pass. I would see to it that he remembered this anniversary in the worst possible way. I smiled to myself and began planning a plan. The next morning I woke up early. Mark was still snoring close to me. I quietly got out of bed as ideas flew through my brain. I started working alone when he went for work. I made a lot of plans and requested several favors from friends. Time to switch roles.
I spent the entire day getting ready. I initially spoke with “La Belle Époque” management. After explaining myself, I booked the same table for the next evening. The manager recognized my situation and promised to help. I immediately called a friend who worked at a store and borrowed the magnificent red dress that Mark had always complimented me on. I then opened a personal bank account with the assistance of a lawyer friend of mine. She checked the details of our account and the cash Mark had hidden away for emergencies. The money gave me the confidence I needed to move on.
I made all the arrangements and then wrote Mark a message that said, “Meet me at La Belle Époque at 7 PM.” Put on elegant attire. Emma.
When Mark returned home, everything was set up. The home was silent, and the message was waiting for him on the kitchen counter. He must have smiled when he saw it, thinking he would get away with another luxurious night at my cost. What I had in mind for him was unknown to him.
It was a mixture of nerves and excitement as I prepared for the evening. I was aware that this was a bold but necessary step. I wanted to demonstrate to Mark that I deserved to be treated like a human being once more. This was going to be an anniversary that neither of us would soon forget, for very different reasons.
Mark arrived into the restaurant with a smug look. I was seated right away, wearing the red ensemble he loved. He took a seat, and I gave him a seductive, enigmatic smile.
His interest sparked, so he said, “What’s this about, Emma?”
I responded to the waitress with, “You’ll see.” “I’ve decided to place an order on our behalf.”
His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. The waiter brought out the first course, lobster bisque. For both of us. Mark’s eyes widened, but he said nothing. Next came the perfectly cooked filet mignon. As the best wine in the house was served, I saw him get increasingly perplexed.
“I’m not sure I understand, Emma,” he said with hesitation. We arrived here only the day before. What is happening?
“It’s our anniversary,” I answered, my kindness shining through. Indeed, it was a memorable evening. I want to put last night behind me. I want to remember this, and I made sure you would as well.
Mark’s expression changed from confusion to suspicion. He looked around the restaurant, trying to make sense of it all. I watched him closely, enjoying his misery. I enjoyed every bite of the main course when it was served. However, Mark was too busy trying to piece together what was happening to actually pay attention to his supper.
I stood up and gave a toast that had everyone in the restaurant talking. Please excuse me, everybody. I have to make a special announcement.
Mark’s face was horrified. “What are you doing, Emma?”
I continued to speak with confidence and firmness, saying, “I just wanted to share something with all of you.” “Last night, my husband brought me here to celebrate our anniversary, but he insisted that I get a cheap salad while he enjoyed himself. Tonight, I intended to show him what true gluttony feels like.
There were murmurs around the room. Mark’s face turned a flaming red. snarled, “Emma, get in here.”
I ignored him. But that’s not all. You’ve always taken great pride in taking the lead and being the giver, Mark. Our meal expense for tonight is deducted from the emergency funds you have been keeping from me for years.
His jaw dropped agape. How come? How did you accomplish that?
“Oh, Mark, you should know by now that I am smarter than you are. Not just that, but furthermore! Ladies and gentlemen, you’ll all be pleased to learn that my husband is paying for all of your lunch expenditures today and is giving you each a share of his money.
Mark’s visage became paler. “This isn’t funny, Emma.”
No, it’s not, I responded as I got to my feet. However, it’s reasonable.
I felt like the previous 10 years had been lifted off of me as I turned to go. As I walked out, the diners applauded, and Mark simply sat there looking surprised and ashamed.
This anniversary would live in his memory forever. And I also wouldn’t.
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